Charlatan
by Terminal Nostalgia
Summary: (Prequel to ChaosandMayhem's Eight Mercs and a Toddler Trilogy) The team's only been together for a few months but Spy already knows two things for sure: he hates the Sniper, and this is definitely not the place he wanted to be driven to. Truths are to be found here though, just not ones Spy's willing to pay attention to. Maybe things would have turned out differently if he had...
**Chaos graciously allowed me to steal Phil so I could write this idea that had been floating around in my head for a while now. I was going to class this as an 'unofficial prequel' but Chaos said it can be official. So this is canon now!**

* * *

Spy sat fuming in the cab of Sniper's van, glaring out at the bright lights and revolving shapes in front of him. Babbling voices and shrieks of delight reached his ears.

'This is not town.'

Sniper chuckled, a low, husky sound that always managed to set Spy's teeth on edge. Usually because it was at his his expense.

'Enough with the lecherous laugh.'

'Lecherous laugh? I haven't got a lecherous laugh!'

Luckily, it was always very easy for Spy to get his own back.

The van rocked behind them as the side door swung open.

'Hey, thanks for the ride, Snipes!'

Sniper stuck his head out of the driver's seat window. 'No problem, mate,' he called back to Scout.

'Huddah-huddah!'

'Hey Pyro, do me a favour and keep him out of trouble, will you? Remember, back here in two hours or I'm driving off without you.'

'Huddah.'

'Hey! I'm not a kid, I can look after myself!'

'Huh, sure you can, mate,' Sniper muttered under his breath as he pulled himself back into the cab. He pulled down his glasses and peered over them at Spy, as though inspecting something that was equal parts fascinating, and disgusting.

'Here, what are you still doing in my van?

'You said you'd drive me into town,' Spy reminded him pointedly.

'Nah,' Sniper said, pushing his glasses back up his nose. 'You asked if we were going off base, that's all. So I said yes. You never asked exactly _where_ we were heading.'

'Because there's nowhere else to go!'

'Until the carnival rolls into town,' Sniper said cheerfully.

Spy swore under his breath. 'How far are we exactly from the centre of town?'

'Ooh, a good couple of miles or so, I'd say.'

Two miles was doable. The only problem was, Spy didn't want to do it.

'Couldn't you just drop me off? I don't see you being in any hurry to go and ride the merry-go-round.'

'Nah. I owed Scout a favour.' Sniper pushed his seat back and settled in. He looked sideways at Spy as he dragged his hat down over his face. 'Don't owe you anything.'

Right. That was it. Spy couldn't stand another moment in the bushman's infuriating presence. He hopped out of the cab and slammed the door shut with unnecessary force. Fuming, his hands instinctively reached for his cigarette case.

'And no leaning against my van, sulking and smoking!' Sniper called. 'Go ride that merry-go-round or something. You never know, you might actually have _fun_ for once in your life.'

Spy stormed off, cigarette clamped between his teeth. With nothing better to do, he headed towards the carnival. He skulked in one corner next to a noisy generator while he smoked his cigarette angrily. He was in such a bad mood that images of someone dragging him off to be part of an old fashioned freak show popped into his head.

 _Behold the modern day Phantom of the Opera, the Frenchman so hideous he must wear a mask to hide his face!_

Then again, _Pyro_ was here too.

He flicked the cigarette butt away into the dry, trampled grass, hoping faintly that the whole place would catch fire. And that Sniper would sleep through it.

He spotted Pyro and Scout standing in front of an air rifle booth. Scout seemed to be trying his best to hit the targets, but with little success. Hardly surprising. Spy gravitated towards them. He'd always found that mocking the failure of others was a great way to cheer himself up.

'Fighting a losing battle there, I see.'

'Shit!' Scout jumped, his shot going wide. 'Christ, Spy! You didn't have to sneak up on me like that!'

'What are you wasting your time on this for? You have to know these things are always rigged.'

'Well, yeah. I'm not an idiot, you know.'

'Aren't you?' Spy asked innocently.

'Oh fuck off Spy. No, I'm not. I've just got to work out if it's the sight or the barrel that's crooked, and in which direction. After that I'll be all set and hitting bulls-eyes with every shot! Just you wait!'

'You've only got two hours here, remember,' Spy reminded him.

'Why are you even here, Spy?'

'Good question. Why did you want to come to this...quaint little carnival? Aren't you a little old for this kind of thing?'

'Hey! What? No, this was Pyro's idea! Right, Pyro?'

Next to him, Pyro shrugged and waddled off, making a beeline for the nearest hook-a-duck booth.

As fun as it was to rile Scout up after every missed shot (a simple tut or a sigh was enough to set him off), Spy soon became bored of hearing the boy's voice. He wandered over to Pyro and gave them honest congratulations over the sizeable pile of ducks they'd managed to accumulate. He'd found that it paid not to be _too_ rude to the person who set fire to Spies as a hobby.

But after that, he had nothing better to do than have a look around. The place was as bad as expected, full of nasty little rides that threw you around, spun you in circles and dropped you from not-so-great-heights. And all were covered in badly drawn cartoon characters and tacky flashing lights. The games were all clearly rigged, and manned by tired, bored-looking individuals. Apart from that, all there was were over-priced food and drinks vendors and the occasional drab-looking tent. As no one seemed to be emerging from any of them holding alcohol, Spy couldn't care less what they contained.

Something tugged at his jacket. Spy flinched, and after taking a moment to register that he wasn't dead, looked around. And then down.

'Are you the magician?' a small child of five or six asked, her eyes wide behind thick-rimmed glasses.

Spy's first instinct was to say no. His second was to cause trouble.

'Yes,' he replied. He pulled himself free of the little girl's grasp and activated his watch.

She gasped, and stood there blinking in owlish shock, her hand still raised.

Spy strode away, chuckling to himself, the sound lost among the hubbub. He knew he was dressed a little oddly compared to most the the scruffy individuals surrounding him, but a magician, really?

He glanced at the timer on his watch. Best to find somewhere out of the way to decloak. As amusing as that had been, he didn't want this bunch of rednecks putting him on trial for being a witch, or whatever else they might want to do to a man who could magically turn invisible.

He ducked under the flap of a tent and found himself in a dimly lit space. Perfect.

He decloaked.

Someone gasped.

Spy spun around to see a middle-aged woman sitting in the gloom behind a table.

'I foresaw this!' she breathed.

Which, while not the exact phrasing he'd been expecting, was enough for Spy to say, 'Sorry, so sorry, I'll just be getting out of your way-'

'No! I mean, _no_ , please do sit down.' Her voice attempted to transition from sharp into alluring but ended up somewhere in the realm of a badly acted and low-budget porno.

She rose from her chair and began to light candles on either side of her. Their warm light bounced off of her dozens of beaded necklaces and gaudy bracelets, as well as the item in the middle of the table.

On top of a red velvet covering and held up by a sturdy little pewter stand, lay a crystal ball.

At his feet, Spy spotted a hand-painted sign which read, _Madam Marvolious, teller of truths and harold of what is yet to come._

He read it again. Yes, definitely harold, not herald.

'Please, please, do sit down sir,' the woman said, her bracelets rattling as she gestured towards the chair on his side of the table. It was set surprisingly far back, with deep furrows in front of it, as though someone had pushed themselves away from the table with considerable force.

Spy's first instinct was to say no. His second was to cause trouble.

'Can I smoke?'

'Um... I mean, but of course you may.'

That sealed the deal. If this woman had been a real fortune teller, she would have known what a bad idea this was. Spy was going to have fun with this charlatan, no merry-go-rounds required.

'I am the great Madam Marvolious,' she announced theatrically once he'd pulled up a seat. 'I can see into your past, present and future!'

Spy was fascinated by her accent. It seemed to be taking a trip around continental Europe despite never quite leaving America.

She waved her hands across the the surface of the smoky crystal ball. 'Your past...' Spy opened his mouth. '…is none of my business.' Spy closed it again. Well, maybe this fortune teller _was_ onto something.

'Your present...'

'Is sitting right here,' he said drily.

'Ah, yes. And now... your future!'

Spy sat smoking and watching her coolly as Madam Marvolious began moving her hands above the crystal ball again. To Spy she looked like someone with a phobia of clay sitting at a pottery wheel.

'The future is a strange and wondrous thing. So many paths. So much potential. But it a whimsical, fickle thing too; it twists and turns and there's no telling in what order things may come true.

'Your future...' She frowned and leaned in closer towards the ball. 'Your future...' She scowled and slapped the crystal ball with the palm of her hand, as though it was a television set with bad signal. 'Now this is just strange. Um. You know what, let's just skip that bit.'

Madam Marvolious gave Spy a strained, apologetic smile. He refused to be drawn in. He already knew that he led a strange life and she'd probably been able to guess that just from the mask. There was no way he was going to encourage her antics. It did occur to Spy though that if this woman had in fact been the real deal, perhaps the whole respawn thing would have caused some confusion. After all, while death was usually a main sticking point in the whole future thing, for him it was merely an annoying but temporary setback.

There was more dramatic hand waving. Spy was just about to give up on the whole ridiculous charade when she spoke again, her voice low and hushed and her eyes fixed on the smoky depths of her crystal ball.

'I see a woman behind a shield of flames. She doesn't like this though; she doesn't want me looking.'

Spy wondered faintly if Madam Marvolious might have mistaken him for a fireman or something. He was about to ask if this fire-shield woman was good looking when she continued.

'And here- a coiled snake lifts it head. It's bitten before and it'll bite again. More flames. A friend-turned rival who will be gone forever one day.' She gave him another tight-lipped, apologetic smile. 'You'll mourn him in your own way.'

Spy had to hand it to her, despite the dodgy accent, she was turning out to be a damn fine actress. He could almost believe she actually felt sorry for him.

Spy found himself trying to work out what she was talking about. A snake? She wasn't talking about the Viper, was she? And who might be- he gave himself a mental slap. No, that's what these people wanted. They gave you vague statements and then got you to do the rest of the work as you strained to attach them to your own life. Though it had to be said that these ones so far were a little on the odd side, not exactly what you'd expect a cut-rate charlatan to be telling you. Weren't their predictions usually a bit more on the generically cheerful side of things?

'I see, I see a boy...'

'Not the way I swing,' Spy said while lighting up another cigarette. He'd been going too easy on this hack so far.

Even in the warm glow cast by the candlelight, it was clear Madam Marvolious had just blushed bright red.

'No, no!' she spluttered, 'A young boy!'

' _Really_ not the way I swing.'

Spy expected (and hoped) for even more flustered and indignant reply to that, but she didn't seem to be paying him much attention any more.

'A toddler. A man? Or... Ugh, something. Just go easy on him, all right? He's only young. There's so much he doesn't know yet.'

Spy snorted. Sounded like Scout.

'And there's a shadow from your past, stretched over so many miles and so many years, but standing here in plain sight. You have so much potential for hurting each other. And so much potential for helping. Reach out to him before it's too late. Forgive him while you still can.'

Spy's amusement faded away. This really wasn't any fun any more. Why were all of this woman's predictions so damn ominous? An answer occurred to him. She'd known exactly what she'd been getting herself into when he'd sat down. Not because of any powers of prophesy but because he looked far too refined and intelligent an individual to believe anything she said. So Madam Marvolious was having her own bit of fun with him here. Spy flicked ash from his cigarette onto the ground. She better not be hoping he was going to leave anything more than a couple of dollars on her table.

'There's a man here. He's tall-'

'Dark and handsome?' Spy interrupted, eyebrows raised.

She frowned down at the crystal ball and considered it from different angles. 'Well, tall. Definitely tall. I sense animosity between you. It will soften over time. Become something more. Much more.'

Spy opened his mouth.

'No, not like that!' Madam Marvolious added quickly.

'I see an opportunity here. A second family A second chance. You'll push them away but they won't let you ruin this for yourself.'

Well wasn't that sweet? Spy pulled a face. As if anyone would ever- no, as if _he_ would ever want or need something like that! This woman really didn't have a clue what she was talking about.

'And the tall man... the tall man...' she trailed off and looked up at Spy.

'There'll be a time when you'll need him but... he... he won't be there for you. I'm so sorry.'

Spy stood up, the chair leaving fresh furrows in the ground. Not because of anything she's said, but because of her expression. Pity. He couldn't stand pity. Especially such a fake, plastic example of it.

Madam Marvolious stared at him, wide eyed. Then, clearly sensing she was about to lose him, blurted out, 'Bad things! Terrible things! You'll never want to touch pork ever again!'

Spy gave a derisive snort and threw down a couple of notes onto the table.

'I think I've heard enough. Good day Madam.'

He'd just lifted the tent flap to escape when she called after him, 'Beware the machines!'

Spy rolled his eyes. Good thing Soldier hadn't been around to hear that one. He seemed to distrust the toaster enough as it was.

* * *

Behind him, Madam Marvolious glared into her crystal ball and gave it a harsh tap on the side. 'What are you in the dark?' she muttered to herself. 'What is that even supposed to mean? Damn faulty thing.'

Then she gasped.

* * *

Spy heard the sound just as the flap fell down behind him. He flicked through his wallet. Ah. That was the problem with American money, all the notes were exactly the same size. He'd accidentally given that charlatan two one hundred dollar bills. No wonder she'd gasped.

Spy wandered over to the air rifle booth. Scout was still there, and having as little luck as ever. Excellent. Watching Scout slap down dollar after fruitless dollar was just what he needed to take his mind off the money he'd wasted himself.

Eventually Pyro joined them, lugging along a gigantic stuffed bear. Clearly someone had been having a lot more success than Scout.

Spy abandoned the two of them and got himself a vanilla ice cream. With sprinkles.

Sniper ended up keeping them there even longer than threatened, so Spy spent the entire ride back to the base arguing with him about it.

Just as they reached the base, a stray thought snagged at the back of his mind. A tall man. Animosity between the two of them. That was Sniper right there. Then he snorted under his breath. As though the two of them could ever get along.

He soon forgot all about the odd warnings and predictions Madam Marvolious had given him. As RED Spy, he had so much more important things to think about. Like how to get back at Sniper.


End file.
